


Futures Dark

by invisibledeity



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Bondage, Hatesex, M/M, PWP, Porn With Plot, Sort Of, Very Dubious Consent, and a lot of confusing emotions, dubious blowjobs, heavy use of chains, throne worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 04:45:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11867004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/invisibledeity/pseuds/invisibledeity
Summary: Once Noctis returns from his long years spent in Reflection, Ardyn's overjoyed that someone else finally understands his isolation and torture at the hands of Bahamut. What starts as taunting turns into something quite different.It's an interesting way to start the final battle, that's for sure.





	Futures Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an nsfw meme on Tumblr. I was given "Noctis / Ardyn; Bondage". So here you go, hope you enjoy.
> 
> This was influenced in no small part by the amazing artworks of [Owlteria](http://owlteria.tumblr.com/tagged/ardynoct)

When Noctis sees his friends fall, the first thing he does is warp. It’s an automatic reflex; he’s only thinking of Ardyn, of landing that first strike against him, all rage and merciless revenge.

Ardyn is prepared. He’s always prepared. He dances out of the way, a smile like a hyena cracking across his face. Out of nowhere, a hand rises up, uses Noctis’s own inertia to slam his body into the hard throne room wall.

Noctis wants to splutter with the sudden shock to his lungs, but his face is pressed up so hard against the marble he can’t move his jaw sufficiently. He flashes an angry glare at Ardyn, and tries to use his Armiger to slip from his firm grasp, but Ardyn’s hand is firm on the back of his neck, like a mother cat grabbing the scruff of a wayward kitten, gently, unrelentingly, forcing them into submission. There’s a crackling in the air and the smell of ozone, just like Noctis’s own armiger but more chemical, more volcanic. Shimmering red light at the edges of his vision. _So this is Ardyn’s armiger_ , he thinks.

Ardyn thinks it’s all a symphony, that much is clear from the theatrical dance his fingers make in mid-air.

‘Oh, Noct… You didn’t think that would work, did you?’

Ardyn’s voice purrs into his ears, that rich, poisonous chocolate tone that’s invaded his dreams and meditations ever since entering Reflection after the nightmare of Zegnautus Keep. How he wanted to forget, but how that voice seemed to find him every time. Bahamut had wanted him to remember every detail during his imprisonment within the Crystal, it seemed. And yet, none of it compared to hearing the real thing once more. It makes him shiver, makes him grit his teeth all the harder, feeling his jaw grind against the stone wall, not caring about the pain.

‘Fuck… you…’

A subtle click from Ardyn’s dancing fingers and something hard and cold tightens around Noctis’s body, bringing the arms that had been rising in an attempt to extricate himself back down to his sides. The same ethereal chains that bound the horrendous cadavers to the ceiling above them, a puff of smoke and crackling red light the only accompaniment to their sudden appearance. He struggles and shouts now, demanding to be let go, demanding it like the king he feels like he isn’t, and even as he shouts, he wonders, maybe the crystal let him out of his prison too early.

‘I think not, my dear boy.’ Ardyn leans in, breath cold against his neck. He feels dead. In a way, he already is.

‘I thought this is what you wanted,’ Noctis spits out. ‘Just the two of us. Fighting it out at the end of all things.’

‘Did your time in Reflection teach you nothing? I want you to fight me, oh, of course. But first, I’d like you to understand. Why it has to be this way.’

Now Ardyn looks sad. The weight of centuries on his shoulders. It’s the same look he gave him just before the crystal swallowed him, when he decided to share with him the tale of the Fallen King.

Why was it that every time Ardyn managed to corner him, to get him in a truly helpless position, it was this expression that surfaced? A pang, sharp and bitter, lances his heart and he ignores it, pushes it away, pushes all the harder because he knows deep down he does understand.

‘You expect me to commiserate?’

‘Noct, you know what it’s like. In there, in the relentless gaze of the crystal’s light.’ Again, that sad expression. Hard line of his eyebrow softening, raising in question, begging Noctis for an answer. When Noctis doesn’t give him what he wants, the expression remains, although the chains tighten.

Noctis wants to run from him, and with equal ferocity he wants to lean in to him, smother him with his desperation, cling to the layers of his coat so tight like it’s a swaddling blanket. He wants to cry, because none of this should ever have happened to either of them.

‘I don’t forgive you,’ he says, and his resolve makes Ardyn smile, although the touch of his gloved fingers grows tremulous where they rest upon Noctis’s back.

‘You’re not meant to.’ Ardyn’s lips are close to his neck now, tickling the soft hairs there. ‘After all, when it comes to the killing blow, I don’t want you to hesitate.’

‘I won’t give you the satisfaction so easily.’

‘Mm. Well, before then, I ought to have my fun.’

The breath leaves Noctis’s neck, and the chains that hold his arms firm to his sides yank his torso backward, pull him towards the throne. They shift unaided in the air, sinuous as snakes, all the while crackling with red energy that turns purple as a bruise once they fall into their intended place. Within seconds he’s shackled to the throne, and more chains are added when he tries to kick upward, holding down his knees and ankles. He considers spitting, but that would probably give Ardyn even more satisfaction, so he just casts his head aside, trying not to think about the fact that the last person to sit on this throne prior to the tortured bastard before him was his dear, dead father.

Ardyn tuts, and another chain wraps around Noctis’s neck, pushing up his jaw until he’s finding it hard to breathe, forced to face down his tormentor. A crooked smile to cover up that blinding sadness, then Ardyn’s straddling him atop the throne, hands travelling over his shoulders and down his chain-crossed arms with all the precision of a puppeteer positioning a favoured doll. He leans in close, stubble brushing against stubble, and his face mirrors Noctis’s own, and an awful moment passes where Noctis is struck by the intense similarity. The lineage, the history he can’t escape from. Ardyn is in his blood.

‘Share some of that enlightenment you found in the crystal, won’t you?’

It’s not as though he can resist. And deep within, some small part of him doesn’t want to. That tiny fleck of his identity that’s still railing against Bahamut and the cruelty of the suffering he’s been forced to go through, it wants to touch something blissful, even if just for a second. It wants to give up. Give in. He closes his eyes; he can feel tears pricking the corners, and he doesn’t want to look any longer at the mirror of himself that is Ardyn. His mouth falls open, and when Ardyn claims it with his own, he doesn’t struggle.

It’s a curious reversal of the role he expects to be given when Ardyn tugs at his belt, letting the chains shift just enough to gain access. The leather belt of his kingly raiment is stiff; the outfit has barely been worn before. But Ardyn doesn’t fumble, not for an instant. He delves one hand between the folds of the zipper, draws out the length of Noctis’s cock, twitching in uncomfortable arousal. A shudder of breath escapes Noctis, and for a moment he fancies the sky is opening up, electric signals running through his nerves becoming stars twinkling above him. 

Next thing he knows, the unholy man with the daemons at his back is on his knees, taking him in his mouth, softly slicking his cock with pleasant wetness then licking, stroking, until finally he takes him in to the hilt and sucks. An appeasing grunt escapes Ardyn’s throat as he falls into worship, and there’s the sound of another belt being unbuckled as Ardyn’s free hand reaches down. His lower lip trembles round Noctis’s cock as he begins to stroke his own length.

The tension in Noctis’s every muscle makes his restraints feel ever more palpable. He can’t focus. He wonders why Ardyn would do this, why the man would debase himself instead of using this perfect opportunity to humiliate him all the more. Not that he cares enough to focus too deeply - every soft stroke and every flick of the tongue is edging him closer to a euphoria he hasn’t felt in a decade. He keeps his eyes closed to detach himself from the reality before him, instead focussing on the darkness blanketing him in rolling waves, increasing in urgency as he approaches orgasm.

When he comes, it’s fervent and strong, and he bucks into Ardyn’s mouth as far as the chains will allow, groaning in pleasure and not entirely against his will. A reciprocal groan from Ardyn as he pumps harder, reaching completion seconds later. 

Ardyn licks his lips, and the corner of his mouth teases upward into a grin. Once he’s recovered, he lets his body slump upon Noctis’s lap, soft and spent, clinging to him like they’re lovers doomed upon a sinking ship. After a while Noctis wonders if he’s fallen asleep, if he should say anything. He’s feeling lightheaded, and now in the aftermath the normal roiling of emotions is returning. 

Noctis sighs. Still the tears prick at his eyes and still he ignores them. Part of him feels disgusted, unclean, but strangely he’s not panicked, not in the slightest. What harm can one last piece of pleasure do, here before everything ends?

Ardyn eventually raises his head, tucks Noctis’s modesty away and rises. He doesn’t say anything; an oddity for such a verbose character, and Noctis feels a strange sense of triumph.

He must have smirked, because something interrupts Ardyn’s forlorn mask of a face, and he twists his hand; the chains tighten near-on unbearably, drawing a pained yell from Noctis before falling away from him entirely. The instant the restraints are lowered, Noctis leaps into action, blue light crackling around him, warping forth to clash with Ardyn. They’re electric, perfectly synchronised. Now Ardyn laughs, and speaks for the first time since his moment of vulnerability began. The teasing, taunting edge to his voice is back, and Noctis almost breathes a sigh of relief. This makes sense. This, he can handle.

‘Are you now ready to claim your crown?’

It’s at this point that Noctis remembers Luna. Ignis. His father. All the people sacrificed to get to this point. He doesn’t want to play Ardyn’s game but it’s all he’s got left. For everyone’s sake. ‘Ready as I’ll ever be,’ he responds, letting the hate Ardyn is expecting to leak into his voice, taint it like ink in clear water. Ardyn smiles for the last time, and it’s with no small amount of fondness. 

‘Good. Now, don’t let us down.’ 

He draws his blade. The final battle begins.

 


End file.
